LITMIR.BIZ

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them to come in and take some refreshment with her.

      ‘It is such an age since we met and I was going to call on you this afternoon,’ the lady said, insisting on sending for coffee and little almond cakes in the front parlour.

      They were soon joined by the lady’s son and daughter, who had come down to see why their mama had not gone shopping as she planned. Miss Amelia was a pretty, fair girl with a lisp and pouting lips, her hair hanging in ringlets about a heart-shaped face. Her brother Robert was tall, well built and dressed in the height of fashion, with shirt points so high he could scarcely turn his head. He seemed to spend most of his time preening before one of the gilt-framed mirrors, and when he did speak his conversation was of horses and his new phaeton.

      Miss Amelia laughed a lot and talked endlessly of her new clothes, which she was purchasing for her trousseau. She had recently become engaged and was interested in little but her wedding and clothes. Accustomed to talking of poetry and music with her brother, and of listening to Papa speaking in an entertaining way of the gentlemen he met and dined with at his clubs, Charlotte found herself longing to go home after just half an hour.

      However, just as she thought they might be ready to leave, a gentleman was announced as Sir Percival Redding. He was a man of perhaps five and thirty, brother to Lady Rushmore and of a florid complexion. His dark hair curled in a manner intended to be casual and his clothes were as elegant as his nephew’s, though slightly more wearable for his shirt points were not above average, and his coats were cut to allow for ease of movement. However, he had a pleasant manner and regaled the ladies with his tales of society.

      Somehow he ousted Amelia from her seat beside Charlotte and sat down to tell her the story of how he had recently dined with the Prince Regent at Brighton in the Pavilion.

      ‘’Pon my word, Miss Stevens, it must have been nigh on a hundred degrees. I felt I was melting and poor dear Lady Melrose fainted twice.’

      Charlotte had heard that the Regent liked his rooms over-warm, but was interested in all the details of the Pavilion, with its Chinese decoration and the towers that gave it the look of an Eastern Palace.

      * * *

      It was as Mama stood up to pull on her gloves some twenty minutes later, clearly intending to leave, that Sir Percival stood and bowed to Charlotte, as she too rose from the small sofa. His neck was a little pink as he bent over her hand and asked if she was going to Markham’s ball that evening.

      ‘Yes, we have been invited. It is my first ball in town, though I have been to the assemblies in Bath several times.’

      ‘I too shall be there,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘May I hope that you will save me two dances, Miss Stevens? I prefer the country dances for I am not enamoured of the waltz—though I see no harm in it for others.’

      ‘Thank you, sir,’ Charlotte replied easily. She quite liked the gentleman, for he was friendly and more entertaining than his relatives and she was grateful to know that she would not sit out at least two of the dances that evening. ‘I shall be very happy to reserve the first of the evening and the last country dance before supper.’

      ‘I shall now look forward to the evening,’ he promised, looking a little like the cat that had stolen the cream. ‘And if I may I shall claim you for supper.’

      Charlotte inclined her head and followed her mama from the house. It was only when they were inside the carriage that Mama turned to her with an approving look.

      ‘I am proud of you, Charlotte. Sir Percival was very taken with you. I saw it at once. I do not say it will lead to an offer immediately, but he would be a good choice. He was in the army for many years, my love, and never married, but Lady Rushmore told me she believes he is at last thinking of settling down. Would it not be a fine thing if you were married to the brother of one of my oldest friends? He is comfortable, you know. Perhaps not as rich as...’

      Charlotte’s mind drifted away as she glanced out of the window, watching the fashionable ladies and gentlemen promenading in the busy streets. The morning had flown and they would have time only to collect their shawls before returning home for nuncheon.

      Mama was still droning on about how fortunate it was that they should meet her friend, as she was driving away, and Charlotte managed to stifle her sigh. She supposed that Mama must review every gentleman they encountered as a possible husband for her daughter, but she wished she would not jump to the idea of marriage so swiftly. It was not that she disliked Sir Percival. Indeed, she would prefer him to the father of three motherless children, but Charlotte was still hoping for more. Surely she was entitled to a little romance before she settled for marriage?

      * * *

      When they were set down outside their lodgings in the fashionable square, she shook out the folds of her gown and walked into the house a little ahead of her mother. She stopped abruptly as she saw her father; he was bidding farewell to a gentleman, who had clearly been visiting while they were out.

      Charlotte’s heart caught with a mixture of shock and pleasure, for it was the viscount, and mixed with the relief that he had at last called on them was the fear that he might recognise her from the previous night.

      ‘Ah, Charlotte my dear.’ Her father’s warm deep voice reached out to her. ‘You have returned just in time to meet Captain Viscount Delsey—he lives in the house opposite, just across the square, and kindly called on me this morning to invite us all to a dinner and cards one evening next week. Sir, this is my daughter, Charlotte.’

      Charlotte took off her bonnet and shook out her long dark ringlets, extending her hand towards their visitor as she dipped gracefully. ‘I am delighted to meet you, sir, and sorry we were out all morning.’

      ‘No matter,’ he murmured, lifting her hand to drop an air kiss just fractionally above the soft leather glove. ‘I was happy to meet your father—and your charming brother. Matthew is to attend a card party with me another evening, but I believe we are all promised to Lord Markham this evening.’

      ‘Yes, we are looking forward to it,’ she said, her heart fluttering as he gave her an intent look before releasing her hand. She glanced down, her long lashes hiding the fluttering emotions inside her. Could he possibly have recognised her from that brief glance the previous night—or was it just her guilt that made her think his gaze narrowed in speculation?

      ‘As am I,’ he replied gallantly. ‘Will you grant me the privilege of a dance for this evening—preferably a waltz? I trust you do waltz, Miss Stevens?’

      ‘Yes, Captain Delsey, I do and I shall,’ she replied, demurely. ‘I have waltzed in Bath several times, and in town, with the approval of Lady Jersey, who is a great friend of Mama’s and granted me vouchers for Almack’s. I am older than I look, you see.’

      She saw an answering gleam of humour in his eyes, his brows rising to tease her. ‘I would hazard a guess at eighteen?’

      ‘I am more than nineteen,’ she murmured in a soft voice. ‘It is my size, you understand. People think because I am petite I must be younger.’

      ‘Ah, such a great age,’ he murmured. ‘One would think you hardly above fourteen if one saw you briefly from a distance...’ His eyes held a look of mocking amusement that made her heart thud rapidly.

      Was he hinting that he had recognised the urchin of the previous evening? Her gaze fell away in confusion for she was unsure how to reply.

      Fortunately, her mama had entered the house, and, after taking off her shawls, bonnet and gloves, looked expectantly towards the viscount. The introductions were made and Charlotte was able to move on towards the stairs. She was about to climb them, when she heard herself addressed and turned once more to see that the viscount had spoken directly to her.

      ‘I was wondering if you and Lady Stevens would like to drive to Richmond with me on Friday, Miss Stevens? My sister, Lady Sally Harrison, has got up a picnic to watch a balloon ascension and she asked me to bring some friends with me. I have invited two gentlemen, who will ride—but there is room in my curricle for both of you.’

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